Trickster's King
by Eaglefire
Summary: Before the Lioness ever picked up a sword, her future husband was a boy in the Lower City, struggling through a hard, common life as he rose through the ranks of thieves and tricksters, destined to become lord of them all. George's story. All of it.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

_As I stared into the Rogue's eyes, I knew I was going to die. I had been too hasty, too clever; now I was going to pay the price for my foolishness. I called upon the Trickster to curse the damned cur who betrayed me. Cut him into tiny pieces, starting with his ears; he hadn't been listening when I said he had to keep my secrets. _

_"Why bother?" a voice hissed. The hairs on the back of my neck rose; this was no natural whisper in my ear. I felt the taint of magic around me, flooding me with strength. My head spun, and my sight of my opponent blurred for a moment to reveal a tall man with peppered hair and a maniacal grin. "You're going to do it yourself, Cooper."

* * *

  
_

My ma raised me on stories of Beka Cooper, our legendary ancestor, defender of the Lower City and its poor, a Provost's Guard who wreaked vengeance on all evil, no matter where it came from. One of the thousands of heroines buried in our history, before women were taken from the ranks of the guard and the army, before their shields were hung up and their swords given to their sons. But unlike so many of those law enforcers in Corus, she was raised in the Cesspool; she understood the proverb of poverty: steal or be stolen from, break the law or die.

From the stories, I knew there were good folk and bad on either side of the line. There were the hardened, cruel killers, rotten to the core, and there were the city officials willing to look the other way in exchange for a bit of hand grease. Those who abused their positions for their own gain.

But there were also the merciful, and those who dealt out rigid justice indiscriminately, and even criminals who looked out for the unfortunate. Men who broke the law but exacted their own justice, giving hope and, more importantly, money to the destitute and desperate. The hypocrites and the inept stood with the clever and the honest, and those lines were often blurred; I knew that the king of thieves could be kinder and more fair than the man garbed in finery that sat in the palace, with all his legions.

I was never a fool. Even when I was very young, I knew there were all sorts of people, for the law and against it.

I just didn't know who was who.

* * *

My magic is rare and little known among most of the common folk who regarded all magic, even the Gift, with the same caution they give to a leper. I do not have the Gift, like my mother; being the good woman she is, she never showed her disappointment, if she had had any at all. She was a healer, one with unusually honest ability in a world full of fakes and cons. She could have served the wealthy, and been paid well for it, but she chose to help the ones who had no chance of hiring any true healer; she had been a priestess in the Temple of the Goddess, before she met my da. She told me little of him, but I did not care- why trouble myself about a man who never troubled himself about me? Better to worry about my ma, who had nobody but me to look after her. Fortunately, I had a skill I put to good use from a young age.

I have the Sight, which tells me more about a person than what is outwardly apparent. I could tell lies from truth and sense deception; a small but valuable talent in the Lower City.

Without my Sight, I wouldn't be alive today; I doubt I would have survived six years on the street. As it was, I was able to avoid getting myself mixed up with trouble. I saw trouble for what it was, and stayed as far away from it as I could get. I was pretty successful, for a time; it wasn't until trouble came for us that it all began.

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	2. Chapter 1

_AN: Thanks to all reviewers for their support- **secret-scribbled-notebooks**, **Dragonfly275**, **Merkaba7734**, **Mirukarumi**, **Shang Leopard**, **peppymint**, **crouchingbunny**, **Evilstrawberry**, and **Madame-S-Butterfly**. And especially my beta, **KyrieofAccender**, for this chapter, which was abysmal before you helped me out. :D Yay for teamwork!_

_As I've said before, I'll try to update as regularly as I can, but I can't make promises._

_

* * *

Chapter One_

"Boy!" I stopped running as a guardsman stepped towards me; he had been stationed near our home for a few months. He was huge, broad shouldered and muscular, even though he looked as though he left any chasing to his youthful partner. Garbed in the black uniform of the Provost's Guard, the two men stepped forward. "You the healer's boy?" I nodded respectfully; I had seen these two take away a drunken father a few weeks ago when he beat his wife, Mistress Ward. I knew her sons well; Marek was around my age. For his sake, I was grateful to the guardsmen.

"Yessir." The older one frowned thoughtfully, his bushy blond eyebrows knitted together.

"I've got a bit of a pain in my right foot; I'd be in her debt if your ma'd look at it," he told me. Wordlessly, I pointed to the small home lining the street that we rented.

"Ma's in there." I hefted the bag of herbs over my shoulder; Ma was looking after somebody with a stubborn malady- she had told me to hurry to the market and back.

I was her helper, the one who fetched her whatever she needed. We weren't rich, but she had saved up enough to keep me from resorting to the measures that plenty of lads did, being lookouts or pickpockets. Thanks to her, I lived freely for six or seven years, as free as a boy in the Lower City could. At least we didn't live in the Cesspool. Ma forbid me from going there; she said there were still slavers who'd snatched me up. I never thought she should worry so much.

My ma was wiping the brow of her young patient, a girl, who she had lying down on a cot, when we entered. She looked up, surprised by my companions, but Coopers recovered quick. As she took the sack from me and dumped its contents out on her little table, she smiled at Bushy Eyebrows.

"What can I do for you, Guardsman?" she asked, tossing a few sprigs into a soup she had already prepared.

"I have a rhemetism, in my foot, ma'am," he told her as she made her way back over to the girl, wiping hair off of her forehead.

"George, feed her," she ordered me as she turned her attention to the man. I took the bowl from the table and walked over to her; she might've been a year or so older than me. Her blond hair was streaked with dirt, shining with grime. Her face was covered in sweat. When I lifted the spoon to her lips, she slurped greedily before lying back feebly.

"What's your name?" I asked lowly. Her brown eyes fluttered shut.

"Talia," she whispered. I waited for her to sit up for more soup, but she did not; her breathing steadied, grew heavier. I sat quietly, watching her sleep, as Ma sent the guard off with a few instructions. When he left with a smile and a friendly wink in my direction, she came up behind me and put her hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently.

"How many times did I send you to the market today?" she asked, a smile in her words. I thought for a moment.

"Four." She laughed.

"I keep you hopping." I shrugged, my eyes still on Talia. "You can go now; she needs her sleep." I used to linger when Ma had patients, feeling guilty that I was out and playing as they tossed and turned in fevered dreams, but I've learned since then that there will always be the sick; you need to take a break when you can.

* * *

Marek was with the other boys when I found them, tossing stones into the fountain on the corner of Broad and Record Streets. He was the only one who stopped his throwing to greet me.

"I was with Duke today," he said proudly. I frowned; Duke was ten years old, and a notorious pickpocket among the children of the Crow Section, as we called this part of the Lower City. There were five sections of the Lower City: the Cesspool, the Crow, the Lark, the Starling, and the Dove District, where the Court of the Rogue resided.

"Why?" I asked warily; his ma would tan his hide if she found out. Both my ma and his were very against crime, of any sort. Marek shrugged shiftily, smiling smugly.

"No real reason."

_Liar. _I didn't need my Sight to tell me that. I crossed my arms.

"You thinkin' about foisting?" Marek laughed.

"Sore?" He pushed me; caught by surprise, I nearly fell. "Race you," he called, stepping past me as he broke into a run. "To Comes Street!" he yelled over his shoulder. Noting the direction he streaked off in, I dashed off the other way; if I cut through a few yards, I could still beat him-

I nearly crashed into old Mistress Lunt; I hastily scrambled to pick up the few onions that I had knocked into the street before she could spell me. She had very little magic, but enough to curse me if she felt up to it. She was one of the old crones who despised my ma for her skill and low prices; many of the poor healers tricked their patients and ended up hurting them more _and _taking all their money, but anyone with sense in the Crow came to my ma now.

"Theiving bastard!" she howled, even as I stuffed the vegetables back into her basket; I received a smack around the head for my effort. "You and your harlot of a mother! Putting on airs in the Crow, cheating us all of our business! May your home catch fire and _burn_!"

"Good day, Mistress Lunt," I muttered under my breath as I sprinted off. I _should _have taken the onions….

I lost the race, but Marek didn't have too much time to gloat; Ma swept down on us and dragged me off- sunset snuck up fast in Corus, and she refused to let me be on my own at night.

After finding a salve for the guardsman in the market, we headed for home. The scent of smoke wafted thorugh the air; it was not unusual, for breezes to bring up the smell from the nightly escapades of the Lower City. Something was probably burning in the Starling, maybe even the Dove; nobody even bothered in the Cesspool, except for laughs….

"How's Talia?"

"Home." Ma's stride was long; I had to scurry to keep up with her. She keep a hand on the scruff of my neck, clenching the collar of my shirt. "Her fever broke, so she went-" She broke off, stopping; I nearly choked as I was yanked backwards by my shirt. I looked up at her, puzzled. Her face was pale. "George-" Then she was moving forwards again, dragging me along. As I struggled to keep up, the smell of smoke grew. We were a block from home-

When we rounded the corner, Ma gasped. It took me a moment to understand; flames reached their orange tongues to the black sky, in the very place our home had stood. I stared, for a long moment. Fleetingly, I remembered Mistress Lunt, and wondered if I was having a nightmare, but I pinched myself hard and the fire didn't leave; this was no bad dream.

Ma picked me up in a swift motion and rushed forwards, towards the guard post at the corner. Busy Eyebrows stood there with his partner. He smiled when he saw us.

"Ah. Found it?" he asked. Ma pointed to the fire.

"The houses need to be evacuated," she told him. The guardsman drew close; his eyes roved over the both of us. "My shop is burning!"

"What do you think we can do about it?" he demanded, snatching the basket with his remedy out of my ma's hands.

"Give it back!" I yelled, glaring at him. He raised one of his giant eyebrows, then took the salve and dropped the basket.

"Fiery little fellow," he observed off-handedly. I retorted with a fervent but soft curse.

"Are the people gone?" Ma asked, ignoring the fact that he had just taken the package from her. _Ignoring _that he had just stole the salve from her; it had not come cheap! "Is everyone out of the houses? The City should be warned-"

"What does it matter?" the younger man asked; he had stayed silent until now. "Move on; your troubles ain't ours." I stared at him; who did that lout think he was? Ma's hazel eyes turned cold.

"You'd let innocent folk die?"

"Nobody in the Cesspool is innocent," he replied coolly. My jaw dropped.

"This is the Crow," Eyebrows muttered. His fellow guardsman shrugged.

"Doesn't matter, does it? They live in their squalor, let them die there; it's best for everyone." Ma's jaw set; her eyes flashed as she let me down.

"Have the Provost's Guard forgotten their duty?" she hissed; the fire was spreading to the houses around ours. "You serve Corus-"

"Quiet, woman," the young man snapped, shoving her backwards. "Corus doesn't mean the scum like you." I swore at him, lunging forwards, but Ma pressed my face into her skirts. I still heard him slap her, and continued a long string of curses I had picked up from sneaking into the taverns, breathing in dusty cotton as I spoke. "Move on," he repeated. "Your problems ain't mine."

_Your problems ain't mine. _The words echoed through my head as Ma tugged me along the street, away from the flames.

"Never mind," she said brusquely as her stride quickened. "I have a friend we can stay with for now." I frowned.

"D'you think Mistress Lunt-"

"Any number of burglars loot and set fire to destroy any evidence that a mage could follow," she replied, voice steely. I could tell she suspected foul play, and told her so; she sighed. "If it was deliberate, it could be any of those healers, George," she said wearily. "Or their sons; they've been threatening to do plenty of things worse than this for awhile; I'm just grateful no one was there when they struck." She patted my back. "I still have you, don't I?" I still remember how she bit her lip, then forced that worried look aside, resigned but determined.

"Who's going to help those people?" I asked, fists shaking. "Someone has to tell them-" Ma's eyes narrowed; with her free hand, she made a fist that glowed with her magical Gift. As her fingers sprang apart, small sparks of magic shot through the air, towards the homes. They were tiny speaking spells that would find anyone nearby and repeat the warning Ma now chanted, "Fire; get out. Get away. There's a fire." Then she stopped, glaring into the blaze that illuminated the sky.

"We will," she said softly, words vehment. "Who else will?"

* * *

_AN: More than semi-cliched, I fear, but I tried to fix it up as best as I could to be as painless as possible; it gets more fun and George-like soon. I promise. :D The chapters will also be getting a bit longer soon enough...  
_


	3. Chapter 2

_AN: I know it's been a very long while- don't worry, I'm still here, and I'm not giving up! I've just got a lot to do... and my other story is taking priority... for now. But George wanted a word with me today, and, since it's a snow day, it made sense to oblige him. ;D Thanks to all reviewers- I will try to update more often, especially since I really have gotten such a great response!- **Dragonfly257**, **Shang Leopard**, **Mirukarumi**, **Merkaba7734**, **Escape my reality**, **Mickeygee**, **pirateskull**, **WishingOnMyStar**, **peppymint**, and my beta, **KyrieofAccender**._

* * *

_Chapter Two_

"And I get my own sharings, after I give half t' Lew," Marek bragged as we wandered through the market; Ma had given permission to visit, which was an odd thing, because I wasn't used to _asking _to see Marek, but now that we lived with ma's friend, in the Lark, I couldn't go traipsing around the whole Lower City. The Lark was more upstanding than the Crow, but I still preferred the markets of the Crow to those of nice homes that could almost be in Patten District.

"What happened to Duke?" I asked as we split to let a cart full of fruit past; Marek was polishing an apple on his sleeve with a sly grin when we walked on.

"Got caught," he said smugly. "Puddin' head. Lew's much more clever-" I shook my head in consternation. "What?"

"Don't what happened to Duke tell you what happens to all them thieves?" I asked, cringing as the words left my mouth; I was beginning to sound like my ma. Then I straightened, just in time for Marek's snickering; I _meant _it. "Your ma's gonna be _ashamed-_"

"At least I bring home a purse, eh? Better than _your _pickings, message-boy." He punched me on the arm, and I scowled. "Be all high and mighty, but I'll always be better off. Better stories to tell the lassies, too." I pulled a face.

"Who's listening to _your _stories? Your sister?" I ducked his swipe and grinned. "Ooo… Marek!" I cooed mockingly. "Tell me more about your _dangerous _life as a magpie!" Marek's eyes grew large as crowns; he hadn't thought I knew the words for the pickpocket hierarchy, all the language that I had picked up mostly from his long-winded bragging.

"I ent no magpie!" he squawked, and I smirked, ready to taunt him more, but my ears picked up my ma's call- with the small, metal crow around my neck that she had charmed, she could always find me right quick. I turned my head, searching until I found her, pushing through the crowd with a frown on her face. I sighed to myself. Since we had moved, she couldn't find much work except back in the Crow, and she didn't like me keeping the same hours out of the house with Marek, since we lived further away now. She was always tired; the dark circles under her eyes battered back away annoyance I had felt about having my time with Marek curtailed.

"George Cooper!" We both started towards her. She had her hands on her hips and a glower on her face, which was unusual for her- somebody must'a been giving her a hard time. "How are you supposed do the stitchin' if you're dashing all around Lower City?" Out of her whole lecture, only one word stuck in my head. I bet it was the same one sticking in Marek's head, too. _Stitching?!_

"Ma!" I yelped as Marek choked on his apple. "Sewing's _gel's_ work!" She put a firm hand on my shoulder as my friend began to snigger.

"You'll thank me one day," she predicted grimly, tugging me away from Marek. I sputtered, tossing a horrified look back at him.

"Oh, aye!" he howled, clutching his stomach. "It's hard work, but somebody's gotta do it!" He tried for a saintly expression, but collapsed into laughter as Ma steered me away and I lost sight of him.

"I'm gonna box his ears," I said darkly, and Ma pinched my ear. "Ow!"

"There'll be none of that talk around me, my son," she said serenely, escorting me into the crowd, through the darkening streets.

I could still hear Marek's laughter ringing in my ears.

* * *

Lariah was a nice woman; I could tell from the minute I laid eyes on her- it's part of my Sight. I just _know. _But she wasn't about to turn her tidy little home into the bustling healing house Ma had had, which meant we had to go out and _find _work. Lariah was comfortable with feeding us along with her man and children… so long as there was enough to go around, of course; that was Lower City charity. Ma didn't like charity, anyway….

So I learned stitching- not just to mend, either; Ma insisted it was to practice sewing up patients, but it was mostly to keep me busy, I bet… keep me away from Marek, who was getting nice clothes for hisself and food for his ma and siblings with his earnings, if you could call stolen coins earnings.

I don't know how Ma knew what he was doing, but that shouldn't have surprised me- she was a smart woman, with both feet on the ground and head on straight… like she raised me to be.

But Lariah's kids were too young to be good friends, and I missed him, although he teased me mercilessly nowadays… I vowed to do sommat soon to clamp his muzzle, even though I didn't know what until it had already happened.

* * *

Marek said he couldn't race, because he was waiting for Lew to meet him. I snorted, then poked him.

"More like you're 'fraid to muss your pretty clothes," I said. "Do people stop and ask you why a nice merchant's son is down here in the pit?"

"How's the stitching going?" he fired back. I put my hands on my hips; no self-respecting lad of seven winters was going to take that. "You lil' woman, ducking 'neath your ma's skirts-"

"Least I give her respect that she deserves," I retorted. "I ain't turning thief for nice breeches, eh?" I was itching to hit him; he had been needling me for weeks, since Ma came and had to announce the stitching lessons…. I drew myself up, glaring back into his eyes. "Fact is," I said, all riled up by his taunts. "That I could snitch anything outta pockets if I wanted to-" Marek's eyes gleamed.

"Then _do it!_" he challenged, a triumphant smirk on his face. It crossed my mind about then that he had been waiting _months _for me to talk myself into a corner like this.

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Didn't my ma always tell me about keeping my mouth shut?

Marek waited, grin still in place. I could almost hear what he was thinking: _little mama's son, ain't going to do it- _He'd never let me alone if I refused now.

And he was sure I wouldn't do it.

I squared my shoulders.

I was going to prove him _wrong_. I glanced across the marketplace; there were many merchants, strolling about, examing goods, trying to find those ones that had been undervalued by the Lower City's inhabitants…. I pointed to one of the closest, whose purse I could see even now, in the bright sunlight as he bent over the baker's goods.

"That one," I said, jaw set, and Marek blinked. Before he could say anything, I dashed forwards, acting like any boy in the street. I approached the baker's stall and stared at the biscuits. The seller recognized me and greeted me without names; she probably only knew me as the healer's boy.

"Say hello to your ma," she sang out as she turned her back to fetch something. I swallowed, casting a glance back over to where Marek had been- there was someone with him, a young man who looked old for any friend….

_Was that Lew? _I wet my lips. Had Marek not been just spinning tales about meeting the foist?

I thrust it from my mind as the merchant I had picked out leaned over the counter.

"No," he said in a hoarse, gruff voice. His purse dangled out from his coat, before my eyes tauntingly. "Not the sweetbread- that other one-" Pushing all thoughts of Ma out of my mind, I remembered Marek and all the dung he had given me.

Then, before I could lose my nerve, my hand shot out, slipping under the flap of the pouch, jolting the strap slightly. I froze as the man stiffened, willing myself to remain perfectly still as he looked one way, then the other, his gaze passing over me as I scarcely dared to breathe. My pulse thundered in my ears; my hand was still in his purse….

I could do this.

As he turned back to the baked goods, I wriggled my fingers in deeper, the very tips of them brushing cool metal. My pointer and my ring pinched together, lifting up a single coin. I began to pull away, breath held-

"Street brat!" The man turned on me, hauling me up by the shirt as my arm was wrenched away from him. His face was contorted in fury, turning red as he snarled. I shrank back, trembling; there was no where to go. "Rotten to the core, scummy piece of dog's shit-"

So I was caught; I had been stupid. A fool. I would be branded, thrown in the cages, and maybe, if I was lucky, survive to be whipped by my ma. I composed my face, trying not to show my fear as he screamed at me. I refused to look in Marek's direction, remembering what he had said about Duke.

_Puddin' head. _It seemed kind, now, compared to what the merchant spat at me as he shook me, making my head spin.

"Little bastards dipping their paws-" He dropped me, and I cringed as I hit the ground, tears coming to my eyes unbidden. Then _he _yelped. I didn't know what was about to happen, but what I had not expected was hands hauling me up to my feet, Marek's cry, and a sudden flood of adrenaline pulsing through my veins. Someone had pushed the merchant into the bakery stall, and someone was pulling me away just as people turned to gather around the fuss.

"Run!" my mate shouted as he yanked me forwards. The older youth was behind me, thrusting us forward into the crowd as he retreated in the opposite direction, a wild grin on his face as folk began to talk.

Somehow, no one stopped us; somehow no guards or well-meaning citizens came after us, to haul us back to that raging merchant…. And still we ran, feet slamming into the ground as we raced, further and faster than we had ever challenged each other. I was remembering my ma's lectures on thieving now, all too clear-

_It doesn't matter how fast or clever or well-meaning you are. You'll always get caught, George. Thieves can't run forever. _

But I didn't _have _to run forever; I just had to run until no one would bother chasing after me…. Something small and round was sliding up and down my shirt sleeve. When I realized what it was, I couldn't stop the grin that crept across my face.

When we finally stopped, I didn't know where we were, what street this was, but I didn't care much, either. Both me and Marek gasped for breath, him glowering.

"You… puddin' head," he muttered, but I laughed. His eyes narrowed as I shook out my sleeve, hand outstretched; a small silver coin fell into my palm. I waved it under his nose.

"It must'a got stuck when he grabbed me," I told him, lifting it up to examine it in the light. Marek sputtered, covering my hands with his.

"Don't go waving it 'round, now," he hissed. "Put it in your shoe, or sommat." Shrugging, I obeyed.

"I'm sure a fat merchant son such as yourself could explain having one," I snickered, pulling off my shoe to drop the coin in it.

"This ent merchant wear, mucker," he told me. "And stop that grinning- you got caught, didn't you? If it weren't for me and Lew-"

"So that _was _Lew." He scowled, and my smile stayed; for once, _I _had the upper hand. "And I'll bet you didn't do well your first time either-"

"He chickened out." I nearly jumped out of my shoes when the voice spoke from behind me. I spun around to see the youth who had saved me. Lew. He looked old- he towered over us, and his gaunt face betrayed none of the excitement it had when I had caught sight of him fading into the crowd. His blue-gray eyes scrutinized me gravely, and I met his gaze fighting the urge to fidget and drop my eyes. "Like most magpies do." I didn't ask how Lew knew what Marek had done, when Marek had first been recruited by Duke. Instead I watched him; my Sight was having a hard time placing him. I hoped, the longer I watched, the better I saw him. A crack of a smile broke through his impassive mask. "But you've got a spine of Black Raven steel- kept your nibblers in as he's looking 'round… kept at it after… and didn't squeak a bit when he catch you." A trickle of unease and one of pride fought for purchase inside me. "And you got some coin out of it for your troubles- guts and grit pay off, in the end."

"Thank you, sir," I said cautiously, still eyeing him. He stuck out his hand.

"You've got quick eyes and hands, even if you bungled that," he said. I watched him for a moment more, knowing where he was going. "You could do better than that, you know." His outstretched hand waited. I hesitated, and he put a hand on my shoulder. When he bent down, his face was in mine, his gaze refusing to let me go. "You make fast friends in this work," he whispered in my ear. "Or you make quick enemies."

How had I gotten myself into this? I wanted to wait until my Sight gave me some tidbits- anything, really- but it hadn't straightened itself out yet. Lew was elusive, here and then gone… and it made me right dizzy to try to puzzle it out.

I would have to make this choice on my own.

"What's it gonna be, then?" he asked, and his piercing stare fell to his offered hand. He lowered his voice further still, out of Marek's earshot. "You're better than your friend, Cooper. I think you could have a bright future in the Rogue's ranks." Chills ran up my spine as I remembered the stories of Beka Cooper... and Rosto the Piper. "You wanna prove that, or do you wanna do the stitchings for life?" So my mate had told his foist about that; you couldn't trust a bloke anymore.

I reached out, gripped his large fingers, and shook firmly, sealing my fate in that of the Trickster's chosen.

* * *

_AN: My next chapter, mostly likely, will be much sooner- especially if I keep getting lots of reviews!_


	4. Chapter 3

_Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! :D I know I have not posted in awhile, but I've been working on my other fic, along with managing a packed summer! Never fear- I could never leave George- Kyprioth would drop crow feces on me if I did- although my progress is slow... for now. Thanks to **peppymint**, **danishgirl**, **Mythirl Maiden**, **mistmagic**, **Dragonfly257**, **Shang Leopard**, **Mirukarumi**, **KrisEleven**, **Alannalover**, **Rowena of Naxen**, **Sandy**, **goaligirl12**, and **Mickeygee**! And my beta, **KyrieofAccender, **as always, amazing person that you are. :)_

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_Chapter 3_

_Excuses_

"Right now, then." Hands in my breeches' pockets, I turned to Cuds and Whooper with no small degree of swagger- all of us senior mags had it, from Lew, who meandered about with a confidence we all tried- and failed- to imitate. "What's our pheasant, boys?" Whooper glanced around, scratching the back of his head, and shrugged, blond curls in his eyes. Cuds had a little more initiative. He pointed to the breadman at the corner.

"Somebody outta knock inta tha' there and anutter body'll snatch ups the coin," he suggested, looking back at me. I wanted to roll my eyes at the pudding head, but my ma had taught me to treat folks better. Instead I shook my head.

"Nah, a'cos he won't have much in that box he's got in plain sight," I explained. "That isn't where he keeps the most of his money. For us, it's too much risk, not enough profit." Cuds tilted his head sideways, brow furrowed.

"Wha' risk? Ain't no trouble abouts-" This time, I cuffed him on the shoulder, and he yelped, more in surprise than anything else. "Wha' was that for-"

"The man has _two _guards," I muttered, jerking my head to either side of the stand- around ten feet away stood two hefty men. "Better to rob his customers while they're in line, boys." Whooper frowned, still scratching his head.

"Bu' then they'll catch on right quick to that they don't have coppers, and you said he got guards-" I suppressed a sigh; where _had _Lew picked these two up? They'd been flying with the mags for a month- surely they had learned a few things since then?

"Yea, but go from the left, and we'll never be caught by the bloke on tha' side," I told them, then explained before they could go asking questions again. "He ain't watching his payer's baskets- he's watching the ladies across the street."

"Those ones?" Cuds asked loudly, pointing to several women loitering under an overhang of the building. I smacked his head.

"Louse-ridden earwag," I hissed, grabbing him right hard this time. "What have I said 'bout pointing, eh?" Cuds yowled, and I let out a low growl of frustration as several people turned towards us, with looks of suspicion in their eyes. "Fergit it," I muttered, releasing my bumbling mate. "Maybe tomorrow then, lads. The cat's out the bag here, and I've got to pick healing salve up for my ma now." Whooper's jaw dropped open.

"But- but Lew won't let us sit and talk tonight-"

"You shodda thought of that before you started causing a fuss," I grumbled, turning back towards Raymond Square. Cuds was not finished yet.

"But _you _can't go either, if we don't-" I snorted, whirling back around to face them.

"Each lad for hisself," I retorted. "Just a'cos you fledges need help with a simple snatch don't mean I can't bring back _my_ part later." Whooper bit his lip, taking the verbal beating, but Cuds scowled; he was a year younger than me, but we were about the same size.

"Big and mighty, ain'tcha?" he sneered. "Acting like Lew's right-hand because you're a healer's boy, all rich and cheating folks outta-" He did not finished, because I punched him in the stomach. Whooper's eyes widened with alarm, and he stepped back.

"My ma don't cheat anybody," I snapped, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Don't you forget that… and I'm no fledge, like you. I can nick it all, so don't you go looking down your nose at me when you can't snatch a copper out of a blind widow's tin." He punched me back, but I grabbed his other shoulder and thrust him into a nearby stall before I walked away, leaving Whooper to help Cuds up and flee the furious vendor, my hands slipping into pockets and purses as I went.

* * *

There were a hundred excuses I made up for practicing picking pockets with Marek and sometimes with Lew. Sometimes, my reasons even made sense. And I had a whole lot of them on hand whenever I looked up at Ma and inwardly heard her lectures on thieving.

But the one argument that actually had any sway over me was the only one that was absolutely _inexcusable: _I _loved _it. Marek was right, when he said everything else paled in comparison; if I had been looking for a challenge, I had found it. The sense of pride, the danger- the blood rush kept everything sharp and vivid in my sight, and any idle boredom I had ever suffered through left me for good….

_If _I kept stealing. _If _I stayed in the business. _If _I dared risk my hide. If Ma caught me, I knew I'd be whupped, and that troubled me, at times… but leaving the rest of the boys who worked for Lew would be hard enough if I _wanted _to.

I didn't need much, and I gave it all to Lew, truth be told; he thought I was an odd bird, but no foist could complain about a little extra coin on the side.

Days turned into weeks, and I still hadn't puzzled out our foist; he looked after us, saved us from the cages and branding if he could, but- if a body was well and caught- he never looked back. There were two who disappeared during my term as a magpie; I snitched anything Lew wanted. Not that none of us didn't, but when we gathered for our rounds, Lew would wander the market with me and Marek mostly, and I was the one who fetched.

"Good," he would say, every time I succeeded. Then, after glancing over to where Marek was working, he would jerk his head at another fat noble ripe for picking. And off I went again; it soon was pretty clear that our foist gave me the challenges- I risked more and more as the weeks went on, picking from armed guards and even a mage or two. _That _was asking for trouble.

But Lew had never landed me any mess I couldn't get myself out of; somehow, to my astonishment, I succeeded, time and time again….

And Ma _never _caught me; as more and more patients came to her, she let me out later and later with Marek, and I even sneaked out of Lariah's house once or twice!

I was crazy, I told myself, to think it would last.

But it _did_. And, fool as I was, I couldn't help but keep at it, holding my breath as I waited to see how far and long my luck would hold.

There were about ten of us, reporting to Lew; there wasn't one of us who didn't worship him. He was our hero, the loner who survived on his wits and blades in the Lower City. He could been downright frightening when a lad held out on him, and fecklessly reckless as he pushed his talents to the edge, watching with glee as we gasped, wide-eyed, at his fearless stunts.

He stole little trinkets from the jeweler's market, the most heavily guarded place in the city. He snitched tiny daggers from the Armory. He slipped his mitts into the purses of guardsmen and stole them blind.

It was almost dusk one day in late spring when Lew told Marek and me that our rounds were over.

"Hold the coins 'til the morrow," he told us, surveying our surroundings. "Scat." As I turned to follow Marek, Lew put his hand on my shoulder. "Cooper, stay." With a suspicious glower at me, Marek glanced up at the foist before disappearing into the crowd.

"Ma's gonna be looking," I told him, reaching up to touch the crow charm around my neck. Lew's eyes landed on the trinket, then narrowed.

"That what I think it is?" he asked, disapproval hardening his features. I shrugged uncomfortably, holding the tiny crow up for his inspection. He took it delicately in his fingertips, staring hard at it. A reddish glow alit his hands for a second, then died. "There. That'll fix any tracer charm for you." As he straightened, I eyed him closely; I had not known he had the Gift. He saw me looking, then grinned. "I can't have your ma looking for you right now," he said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them vigorously.

"Why?" I asked, curiosity piqued. He winked, the image of mischief.

"You'll see," he retorted, tugging me along through the crowds. "I knew back when you landed yourself in your first hard place that you'd be the one I'd pick for this, but I had to make sure, y'know?" I couldn't help the grin that slid across my face- Lew had picked me for-

"What are we getting?" I piped up. Jewels, charms? Did he want me for a lookout, or was this a job for me? Maybe a thief needed to slip through tunnel, a tight space, fit for a young lad, to steal what Lew had in mind- he needed a snakeman. Or maybe it would be dangerous, and he knew that I was the only one with enough nerve out of the gang to help him- Lew gave me his razor-edged, dry smile, and a thrill of excitement raced through my blood. Whatever it was, I was ready, I was-

"We're off to the Dancing Dove," he told me, and I nearly choked on the air around us.

_The _Dancing Dove?

"The King's Court?" I managed. "The tavern?"

"Is there any other Dancing Dove?" he asked ironically, condescension and amusement equally mixed in his voice, a tone he usually reserved for the idiots of our lot, but I barely heard him. We were going to the Court of the Rogue- _the _court, the one Rosto the Piper had first ruled over in the Dove, because he wanted to be close to the people… he was devoted to serving them- he ran the Rogue with an iron fist… and just decisions. He had been there when the renovations had been made, when the secret passages had been built and hidden away, for the Rogue's use only-

"And I know all of them!" I whispered, eyes widening. Secret ways into the Dove that the current Rogue might have never known…. Lew raised a questioning eyebrow, and I turned red. "The Dove has a lot of secrets," I muttered. If anything, my foist's eyebrow rose even higher.

"So it does," he said slowly, still studying me; we had stopped, in the middle of the road. As the afternoon drew to a close, more people filled the streets, but not this one; here was a respectable street, lined with houses of folk who wanted nothing to do with those who wandered in the night. "And what would a healer's boy know about them?" I met his gaze and shook a little.

It was then that, for the first time, that my wee bit of magic spoke to me about Lew; the feeling hit me in the gut hard, as strong as a blow from Ma's hand. It told me to close my trap and keep it shut. I shouldn't say I knew that one could travel from the kitchens to the upper rooms, that a man could slid into the wall from a panel below the staircase to spy upon those in the Court…. Everything I had ever learned from Beka's stories came to the top of my mind. And now someone wanted to know- I should shake my head and smile, shrug and act like a fool….

But other forces were at work back then, loyalty, for one. Lew was my foist, and he had chosen me to visit the Rogue with him, for whatever reason he had. I owed him everything, I had supposed….

But the real danger was my pride. What if Lew thought I was of no importance, as dull-witted as the next magpie? Then he would discard me, and leave me to Marek's vindictive mercy. I wanted _more_.

I did not want to be just another boy in the street, playing at theft until I was apprenticed to a blacksmith, or a cobbler…. No. Commoner I was, but the legacy that ran through my veins was greater than any nobles'- my ancestors had risen by their own strength and cunning, their own merit; their wit and courage lay dormant in my blood, ready to meet any challenge laid before me.

And I wanted someone to know.

I took a breath, and said seven words to my foist. The lucky seven- the irony does not escape me… The Trickster must have laughed his sorry ass off when I spoke them.

"I know every secret that tavern has." And I watched as surprise flickered across Lew's face. Then his eyes glittered and a chilling smile broke across his lips.

It was the look of a man who senses power is within his grasp. I had not seen it before that, but I have seen it a thousand-fold since. I have seen it on great nobles and strong mages… and I have seen it on hedge witches and petty thieves. And I have seen it enough times to say that Chaos rides upon that burning gaze, that cruel smirk, waiting to descend and feed on those it touches.

"Do you, now?" he queried in a low purr. Pushing back those uneasy feelings, I nodded once.

Yes, _loyalty_ was my reason for ignoring that little feeling that my pride smothered, damn the Trickster for it. Damn him for giving me all those poor excuses, so that I could deny the truth. So that I could do everything I did, and sleep easy at night. So I could deny that I _wanted_ to play with fire, and that I did not have the will to stop.


End file.
